


I Am the One Who's Always Been There

by Jeanvalvernairdienjoleponius



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: E/R - Freeform, Les Miserables - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:49:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanvalvernairdienjoleponius/pseuds/Jeanvalvernairdienjoleponius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Mis Soulmate AU. Grantaire has always been dumbfounded by the tattoo directly over his heart, convinced no one could love him.<br/>Enjolras has never had time for love.<br/>Two tattoos change that all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come in from the cold.

Grantaire had always wondered why in the world he would only have a single word tattooed onto the skin just about over his heart. It read simply, ‘Welcome.’ The tattoo had appeared there on his thirteenth birthday, as they really did with pretty anyone who met their soulmate after that age. He was normal in that sense, of course he was. The only problem was, every single pair of people who had their tattoos and had become soulmates had been a boy and a girl. It was a seemingly flawed system. The word etched on him had always taunted him. He would never be welcomed in such a world where he had to be with someone of the gender that he didn’t love. He didn’t feel comfortable being with girls in a relationship, and everyone who thought they loved him stopped dating him whenever they figured out what his tattoo was. Welcome was a very worn-out word to have as a greeting nowadays. and every time he’d heard it used there had been more words to follow. After years of getting his hopes up, he now knew better than to assume that he had a soulmate he would meet. Life was cruel.

That was what had been on his mind when he’d gone out drinking with one his friends, Bossuet. Bossuet was the single exception to the rule that he’d ever met. When he first had his tattoo, there was only one, with four words. “Honey, are you okay?” However, when he’d gone to a meeting that he’d heard about from school, he left there with another tattoo, this one on the opposite side of his body. “Are you quite alright?” Same size, same amount of words. He, apparently, had two soulmates. The luck of the draw. The thought was ridiculously frustrating, but Grantaire’s train of thought left him about halfway through drinking. This was most apparent when Bossuet finally convinced him to go to one of the meetings of said school group, the Les Amis. Grantaire had protested about going there on numerous occasions, and Bossuet knew that he absolutely had to get him in. His ideals were too good to miss out on. That was why the boys found themselves stumbling their way over to the Cafe Musain.

“No, I don’t wanna go to a Justice League meeting..” He protested quietly, to no avail. He was too drunk to complain too much, and besides, Bossuet had nerves of steel when it came to convincing Grantaire to do things that he knew would be nice for them both. Though Grantaire was far stronger than Bossuet normally, Bossuet managed to pull the drunk into the Musain. Bossuet, after stumbling a bit and just barely catching Grantaire, saw a table near the corner where a few people were grouped, one of them quite animated about whatever he was explaining. The speaker/leader looking man nodded at Bossuet, returning back to his speech and then faltering when he saw someone new. He looked confused and as if he didn’t know how to acknowledge him without interrupting the entire meeting, so he just said a simple, “Welcome,” before continuing on with his speech. Grantaire scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. The greeting felt entirely unwelcoming to him.

To add to that, Grantaire was incredibly distracted as well as warm and quite uncomfortable. He just wished that he actually knew more than one of these people. It would have been nice for Bossuet to have initiated an introduction to these men, and Grantaire would have willingly obliged to it. However, they all seemed entirely enveloped in the speech, and seeing as there was nothing else to do, it wasn’t long before Grantaire started listening to what the man was saying. Though his hands were fidgeting and his eyes were dull, his body constantly swaying back and forth and him scratching at his nose every few seconds, he was a very attentive listener. The speech sounded interesting, but Grantaire had a nagging suspicion in the back of his head that he didn’t actually like what was being told to these people. Even to his drunken self, it just sounded wrong. 

“We have to find a way to get these people off of the streets. If we were to find some way to make a soup kitchen or a shelter of sorts, then we would be able to help so many more people than we already can. Think about it! In a single day, someone could go from homeless and starving to having a temporary home and food. They would finally feel like they have somewhere nice to stay, not have to worry about being cold and being able to contact their families and having just better quality lives in general! We’re so close to reaching our goal, and..”

At that point, Grantaire’s fidgeting had turned into tapping his foot rapidly on the ground, trying to keep his frown from being that visible. By the time he’d listened to a few sentences, his face was already twitching with anger that the other just didn’t seem to realize. He’d been in this situation before, and someone had tried to help him without asking the permission. It had seemed like he was being used for publicity or to make the helpers feel good about themselves, instead of actually wanting to help Grantaire with what he’d been going through. It was the worst feeling of his life, and the speech was pissing him off. 

Without being able to control himself, he jumped out of his chair and began, “Let me tell you how that’s wrong. Imagine you’re me, I have no idea who the fuck you are and I’m desperate, clammy, living on the streets. Then you come up to me and I think nothing of it, maybe I wish you might give me some money so I can buy food. Without being told of before this and not even knowing where you might take me, you start to take me to a shelter. It’s crowded, and hot, and there aren’t enough clothes to go around and it smells horrible and I still have no money and could have afforded better food by digging in the trash. Would you enjoy it if..” 

The room went entirely silent.

The leader in red stood, staring, mouth hanging wide open in absolute, unadulterated shock. Everyone else was simply staring at his blank face, nobody having any idea of what to say. Only one person had noticed how the man paled and started mouthing the words to what Grantaire was going to say until he started shaking. Grantaire placed a hand over his heart and felt it pounding away with adrenaline in his chest, now feeling satisfied and somewhat sobered. His eyes widened when he finally remembered exactly what it said where his hand was pressing, which matched exactly with the greeting Enjolras had given him.

 

Welcome.


	2. Don't stare at the sun, you will get burned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd done it wrong, he'd messed up oh so badly. There was no way he could find someone to forgive him for this. Grantaire has no time for love and can hardly believe that someone could care for him.

Grantaire’s heart pounded under his hand. He couldn't believe what was going on. Had he really just found his soulmate? That was so rare, he'd barely even heard of it happening in stories. This ..this was absolutely impossible. There was no way, no possible way that this could be happening to him. He'd just had the most horrible introduction he'd ever had in his life. Spouting on about homelessness like that, he'd let his fuse get far too short. He was appalled. He'd just embarrassed himself in front of a potential group of friends, they most likely would never even want to forgive him for that. Couldn't he have just kept quiet about that? Why had he even let himself come to this stupid meeting? He had no idea what they would be talking about, and surely Bossuet wasn't stupid enough to bring him to the one meeting where he would immediately disagree wholeheartedly about the topic at hand. It was mortifying to even begin to consider that Bossuet had been trying to set him up. He covered his mouth with his hand, fighting off tears. There was no way this man could love him.

And besides, he had no time for love! Why would anyone ever want to love him? That would be the stupidest decision someone could make. Grantaire was useless save for arguing, and look where that had gotten him tonight. Sometimes he was able to give himself the illusion of self-worth, but only when he was pleasantly drunk. He had life-ruining habits, he was going to die early from them. Whoever he loved would just end up hurt in the end. Quite upset, he shook his head, feeling immensely hungover and still swaying slightly in his chair. After a half-minute or so of stunned silence, someone finally stood up to take the leader's place, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

Grantaire shriveled down into his chair as he studied the other. The man now standing up in the talking spot was looking rather distressed. Was it what Grantaire had said? Probably. He'd done it wrong, he'd messed up oh so badly. There was no way he could find someone to forgive him for this. The man in front of him looked incredibly nervous and was fidgeting with his hands as he stood in front of them, though he didn't let his tension show in his face. He seemed to have a calming effect on the group. That was good enough for Grantaire. He opened his mouth and closed it again, taking a deep breath and starting up once more.

"Well, I do believe we’ve found some lovely input on the topic. However, it would be in our best interests if we could fit a name to a face. It's always nice to see a new member of these meetings, and seeing as you were brought by Bossuet, it would seem that you aren't a person who drun.. Er, randomly stumbled upon us. So, uh, what's your name, mister..” He said, sentences choppy and nervous sounding. Grantaire could tell that his voice normally was business-like but still nice sounding. Unfortunately, the awkward air had really changed the way everyone was acting. Answering the question, Bossuet chipped in quietly. “R. His name is Grantaire, but he likes to go by R sometimes. I guess you can just call him whatever..” He said, voice dying off after a bit of talking. He looked vulnerable and honestly quite scared to be the first one to say anything after that particularly awkward segue. Grantaire hated to put him on the spot like that, but he'd had no idea of exactly what was going to happen. Maybe if they could have had a proper introduction, this wouldn't have happened. But, no use wishing useless wishes when you can instead sit in your chair and hope nobody notices you. Cynical thoughts running rampant through his head, he fixed his eyes on his apparent soulmate.

The man had blonde hair and blue eyes, matching with a fiery red jacket. What an interesting color scheme, only primary colors. He noted to himself, looking over his own clothes. Turquoise eyes, green hoodie, tee shirt, dark gray pants. Not exactly a color scheme, more just whatever clothes he could find in his closet and throw on before he had to go to work in the morning. He had more the look of a homeless person, whereas the other was sculpted like a work of art. He was so aesthetically pleasing, Grantaire felt an urge to hurry up and draw something before the will to draw left him like it had been doing for several weeks in the past. Unfortunately, he honestly couldn't tell if it was the fact that they were soulmates speaking, or him actually finding the sculpture attractive. He almost leaned over to Bossuet to ask if the man was aesthetically pleasing to him, too, before he noticed a flash of movement. Bossuet was talking to someone else, either way.

Grantaire identified the movement when his soulmate, now out of the spotlight, slipped away from the table at which they were seated, something which everyone noticed and simultaneously pretended not to. Apparently the leader was supposed to be fearless and always have something to say about everything, so it was sort of a special event that Grantaire had left him speechless. Nevertheless, Grantaire shriveled in his seat, unsure of exactly what he should do. He took his hand off of his heart and discreetly tried to look down his shirt and make sure of what his tattoo really said, even though he’d had it for several years now, and it wasn’t exactly a terrifying task to try and remember a single word. In a burst of confidence, (or possibly stupidity), he pushed his chair away from the table and wordlessly attempted to follow his soulmate.. The people at the table had a low buzz of talking as soon as he left, and Grantaire honestly didn’t even want to know what they were talking about. 

Upon realizing that the blonde was absolutely nowhere to be found, Grantaire decided that he needed a breather anyways. He stepped outside into the cool air and let it run down his skin, feeling goosebumps form on his arms as he tried to find clarity with his drunken stupor. This wasn't the worst the drunk had ever been, but he honestly now wished that it was. He needed something to drink.. But, that could be a bit dangerous. Bossuet would be angry. Instead of going on with his plan, he went to find whoever it was that was apparently born to be with him. What a funny thought. He felt immensely bad for that man. Quietly, he stepped inside and headed to the men’s bathroom, wanting to splash some water on his face or something.

Turns out, the decision wasn’t confidence at all. It was most definitely stupidity. As he stepped into the bathroom, he found that his significant other was already standing there, shirt pulled up, reciting exactly what it said on the pale skin of his chest. Grantaire's eyes fell on the tattooed words of his own handwriting, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks as he realized just how immodest it was. When the man saw Grantaire, he flushed as well and turned to the opposite direction, Grantaire doing the same. “So, um, hello.” The man greeted somewhat properly. Grantaire sighed and gave him a withering look. "You made a wonderful first impression," he commented, "Welcome." The man in red gave a strange, choking sort of laughter. "This is who.." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm supposed to be with you?" The words hurt more than almost anything he'd heard in his life. The man was disappointed. He sounded so crushed, so defeated, so embarrassed, as if someone had just taken his dreams and told him that he could never achieve them.

Grantaire was, to say the least, appalled at that. Obviously this man who he was destined to spend the rest of his life of hated him, or was embarrassed by him, or something. The brunette felt a strong urge to cry, probably brought on by his excessive use of alcohol. After a moment, the other regained his composure and crossed his arms over his chest. "My apologies for that. Anyways, that was nothing, I'm just surprised to know that not only you're male, but you're also the first person to ever stand me up in a meeting. For that, I congratulate you. The name's Enjolras." He explained, extending his hand. Grantaire stared at his hand for a moment, wondering if Enjolras was honestly being serious with this. Soulmates, shaking hands upon first introduction? He made it seem as if they were meeting for an intent reason, like a job interview or the signing of a treaty or something. 

"And mine is Grantaire. I'm sure you heard my introduction earlier, but you can call me R, or literally anything you might want to. I've known enough people who've called me enough things where I really just look up any time anyone says any name whatsoever." Grantaire rambled, nervous and hoping that he wasn't just digging himself into a wider hole than he was already trapped in. Remembering Enjolras's outstretched hand, Grantaire shook it firmly, finding that Enjolras shook in a businesslike manner, not holding on for a second longer than he really had to. Enjolras acted distracted and like he didn't really want anything to do with Grantaire. It was painful, but Grantaire couldn't find it in his heart to feel dissatisfied with that, he was too emotional for this day. This love was proving painful even from the first moments. 

Oh, this was going to be hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I added another chapter. Thank you for all of your kudos and comments, you have no idea how much they meant to me.


	3. Stumbling along in a new direction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't really belong in a place like this. I'm just a cynical drunkard who doesn't believe in anything."   
> "Well, tell me more about yourself."

Of course, now that he actually had the opportunity, he found that Enjolras was incredibly pleasant to the eyes, to the point where he was, dare he say it... Attractive. No, he did dare say it. He was attractive, but not in a typical hot guy way. He was that, but he also had an element of timelessness to him that seemed to come only in mythology. He was reply a beautiful man, whereas Grantaire was a brute of a man. He wouldn't trust himself with Enjolras. He’d probably end up being hurt by Enjolras instead of the other way around, but either way Grantaire wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle it. Most of his relationships in the past had ended in disaster and a blow to his ability to function without drinking, and he didn’t want to tread along that route with the person that he was, according to society, supposed to be with. With a sigh, he continued his introduction.

"But, yeah. I'm friends with Bossuet and he quite literally dragged me here. I guess I'll be coming here more often?" He pondered silently, placing his hand in his heart out of habit. Welcome. His skin silently taunted him through his shirt. Never. It usually gave him hope to know that there might be someone out there for him, but at the moment it was only terrifying him. Why would anyone be that for him? As he’d just proven, Enjolras cared nothing for him. He was probably revolting enough to someone who wasn’t a righteous flame like Enjolras was. His stomach churned uneasily with the realization that the tiny sliver of hope that he’d held onto for so many years was crumbling away as each second passed. 

"Oh, I guess I'll look forwards to seeing you around." Enjolras smiled a little, clearly just as nervous as Grantaire was. The words shattered their way into his thoughts, and though they probably would have been comforting instead only made him more uneasy. "You know, for years I was always wondering, why would someone rant to me about being homeless? That's just a bit pointless. I've usually kept what little knowledge I had written on me in mind when I did these kinds of things, but I guess school caught up to me and I forgot. I mean, I’m studying so much nowadays that I forget to sleep, like, all the time and just.. I’ve had a lousy couple of weeks. I didn’t even consider the advice you gave me.”  
Enjolras chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed as lost in thought, grasping for words just as much as Grantaire was. It wasn’t really a good look for him, compared to the passion with which he’d spoken at the meeting, and Grantaire wished that his confidence would return. Whether he was being kind or terrible to Grantaire, it would be a thousand times better for him to be confident. At least, it would be a thousand times less strange After what felt like forever, he finally spoke. "Nice choice of words, by the way. I'm glad to have profanity permanently stuck in my waistline."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. So what if he swore when he was drunk and angry? Who didn’t? It wasn’t like Grantaire was some sort of foul creature who exuded darkness and disgust whenever he took a breath (though, admittedly, that would be really awesome.) No, he just happened to be someone who Enjolras would probably frown at and try to help if they passed each other on the streets. Maybe that would have even been a better introduction than the disaster that was the meeting. Lost in thought, Grantaire didn’t even attempt to make an excuse for himself. That didn't seem to be taken well by Enjolras, who simply glared at Grantaire without really saying anything. He crossed his arms and drummed his fingers on his arm, a bit impatient. "Grantaire, please don't do things like that right now. I need some time to think about what’s happened today, and I really don't.." He sighed, breaking off. "I just.. Grantaire, lets do this over again. Let me introduce myself properly, without any joking or any talking about tattoos or anything." The blonde suggested, sounding serious. Grantaire nodded at him. Not like that could make this any worse, could it?

"I mean, I already did this twice, but, my name is Grantaire. I came to this meeting because Bossuet forced me to come with him. Of course, he's a lovely fellow, but I always had to refuse. I don't really belong in a place like this. I'm just a cynical drunkard who doesn't believe in anything.” The man explained, looking down at his feet. “Bossuet is rather lovely, actually. I don’t even remember how we met, I just know that he was really nice to me. He probably tripped on my feet in the hallway in high school, I don’t know. We just kind of bonded immediately, and.. how did you find him, actually?” Grantaire asked softly, looking up at Enjolras.

Enjolras pursed his lips, looking around the bathroom as if the clue to this conversation would be written on the sinks. He sighed deeply, taking slow breaths as he puzzled over the answer to that question. “Well, uh.. Oh, yeah. Combeferre and I have been friends since diapers, and he decided to go into med school. He met Joly there and convinced him to go to a meeting. Joly and Bossuet have been friends since who knows how long, and Joly decided to bring Bossuet. They met Musichetta here and their strange three-way tattoos suddenly made sense to everyone.” He said with a reminiscent smile, looking straight through Grantaire. After a moment his eyes seemed to gain focus, and he stared at Grantaire right in the eyes. “But, I mean, tell me more about yourself. I don’t care about the tattoo or your friends, just tell me you.”

Grantaire huffed, hating that the attention was turned to him. It was unbearable, talking about himself. He always ended up spouting this rant about himself, always criticizing because he didn’t know any better. Might as well start and get it over with.. “Well, I was working on getting an art degree in college when my funds ran out and I ended up as this mess of a person. Had to drop out of college, scrape by with a lovely addiction to alcohol and a lowly job. I make art as a side job, it kind of helps. I can count my friends on one hand, even if one of those friends is art. They all try and calm me down when I feel my lowest, but I get moody and annoying all the time. I just annoy everyone I come across and can’t even feel good about myself.” He shrugged, rolling his eyes and frowning at the other. Enjolras probably didn’t want talking like this. “Pretty much the opposite of you, probably..” He pondered with a smile, crossing his arms to comfort himself.

Enjolras seemed to think about that for a second, opening his mouth and closing it, a single finger pointing up into the air. Grantaire judged that the man was an entire open book, though he said nothing about it. “Well, as you know, I’m Enjolras. I enjoy eating whenever I remember, sleeping whenever I remember, and learning whatever I can dissect from the haze of bias of many of my teachers. I have many acquaintances, though probably not all would call me a friend. I can be unfortunately intimidating and don’t really know how to talk to people. Fortunately, one day I met Feuilly and we kind of bonded over our ideals, decided to make this group and invite our friends to it. It’s been slowly growing and all, but it’s hard to really do anything with eight members, especially with all of us either working or studying all the time. That’s pretty much all I do. This group of people and studying.”

Grantaire, unable to contain himself, snickered like a child at what Enjolras had to say. “What is wrong with you? What in the world is funny about having a group of friends?” Enjolras roared, hands balling into fists at his sides. His mouth twitched and a disgusted look formed, far worse than what Grantaire had been given before. The look chilled him to the bone, though he stood firm where he was. 

“Oh, no, it’s nothing. You just.. all you do is this group of people?” Grantaire chuckled inappropriately, smiling and covering his mouth with his hand, feeling the heat in his cheek through the rough skin of his palm. His eyebrows creased into a pained expression as he tried to stop laughing, knowing that it would probably make Enjolras never want to talk to again, but the blonde didn’t seem to mind. In fact, was that a smile he saw? Grantaire’s heart pulsed. Maybe it was a good thing that they were apparently destined to be together, seeing as his heart was a hundred percent along with that.

After a second of silence, Enjolras laughed to himself. “Well, you know, with a group like them, how can anyone resist?” He offered a small, legitimate smile to Grantaire. Before the drunk even knew what was happening, Enjolras wrapped him in a tight hug and then immediately stepped back. “Thanks for actually coming to a meeting, no matter how forced. I honestly hope I can get to see you at the next one, we could..” He sighed, regaining his thoughts before he would ever stumble on a word. “We could really use your ideas. I could use them. And, uh, I’m gonna call the meeting short, think about what you said, and have the next one in a few days. Goodbye for now.” The blonde stated, though it sounded like it was mostly for himself that he said it. With that, he left the bathroom.

Grantaire’s mouth opened wide when he’d realized what had just happened. Enjolras had smiled at him and hugged him. More importantly, he probably didn’t hate Grantaire. That was most definitely a step in the right direction. Closing his eyes, he sighed and took a step towards the door, hand inches away but unable to pull it open for the life of him. He thought about the entire conversation, going over everything of worth that he could remember and mouthing random phrases to himself giddily, before coming back down to earth and taking his hand back towards him.

Sighing, Grantaire wrapped his arms around his own torso, though it produced none of the warm effect that he’d felt for a moment with Enjolras. A defeated frown on his lips, he stepped out of the bathroom to face the rest of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient, I'm not really allowed to use the computer that often. I think this is coming along swimmingly and should wrap up at around seven chapters, but with some convincing I could probably prolong it. Thank you to all who write comments and give kudos and read this, you keep me going.


	4. From a Friend's Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though the laughing was bad, she fortunately didn’t know why Grantaire hadn’t walked back with Bossuet, or the ridicule would have been far, far worse.
> 
> ~In which Eponine consoles Grantaire in the only way possible: Laughter.~

The rest of the world, shocking as it seemed, wasn’t actually that bad of a place to be in. There was a warm buzz in the cafe, coming mainly from the group of two tables in the corner, but everyone else seemed happy enough. Grantaire almost didn’t want to walk into the scene and shatter the peace with random, useless tension with another argument. Unable to resist himself, he paused in his stride, listening hard to what everyone was talking about. Naturally, it was all about Grantaire. They were asking all sorts of minute details about him, to which Bossuet and Enjolras would either have no answer or conflicting answers to. It was really getting them nowhere. 

“So what’s his favorite show?” He heard the somewhat familiar voice of Joly ask. Nobody seemed quite capable of coming up with any creative questions, like, ‘would a griffin or a centaur win in a fight, in his opinion?’, or, ‘What’s the average airspeed of an unladen swallow?’, or, ‘If there’s a fat guy in a pastry shop with a 20 dollar bill and he’s ready to buy, in order to predict his volume change, we need to know the value of pi,’ or something interesting. He’d have to jazz it up a bit. Rolling his eyes, Grantaire walked over to the corner and gave the answer to them before Bossuet could stumble over whatever he thought might be the answer for the lame question. Bossuet may be a really good friend, but he really talked more about what was going on with people than what was going on technology-wise.

“I don’t really watch that much television, to be honest. Whatever’s on, really.” The brunette stated, chuckling when he heard some startled gasps. The chuckles faded when Bossuet flinched and hit his knee on the table, but that was probably to be expected. Nobody really thought anything of it. Grantaire waved at the people sitting at the tables, giving an extra flashy, knowing smile to Enjolras. Enjolras stared back, and Grantaire shook his head disapprovingly. “I heard this meeting was drawing to a close, who’s going to start the after party?” Grantaire shimmied his shoulders with attitude at the wondrous suggestion, watching with confidence as Enjolras got up and scoffed in disgust, pushing his chair in and leaving the cafe. 

The fact that he’d made Enjolras leave was only more proof that he should continue with whatever he was doing. What else would it mean? That he was actually annoying and doing something rather inappropriate that maybe he shouldn’t do? Nah, who has time for that. In order to hide the tears that pricked at his eyes and the immense hurt he was feeling, Grantaire only laughed louder at the jokes they were making, unnecessarily forced himself into more conversations, made himself have a better time. In the blur of activity and laughter, all of the people around Grantaire introduced him to themselves once more. This time, being a bit more alert, Grantaire managed to retain a few facts for himself. 

Grantaire already knew that Bossuet was in a relationship with Joly and Musichetta, but learned that they somehow managed to keep it going without fighting, though not without injury. Grantaire, now finally able to meet Joly, figured out how that happened. Joly was basically the nicest human being on earth. He learned that all of the people in that cafe have immense respect for Enjolras, and Enjolras is pretty much a celebrity around those parts. Feuilly was the person that Enjolras started this group with, and was the oldest of them all. It really showed. Jehan was sort of a flower child of them all, Bahorel was the tough guy, Courfeyrac was flirtatious and Combeferre was the nerdiest of this group of nerds. They all were incredibly nice to Grantaire, though he wasn’t sure if that was because they were nice to everyone, if they actually liked him, or that they pitied everything that he’d been through that night. 

By the time the conversation had really run out of things to talk about and friends were starting to get clingy with other friends, he could pretty much tell that everyone was pitying him. Everyone wanted to talk about other things with their pre-established friend groups, of course. Leave Grantaire out of the equation. With a roll of his eyes that nobody was looking at, he yawned loudly and stretched, looking over at Bossuet. “If it’s all the same to you, man, I’d like to go home now.” The drunkard announced, sighing and looking over the group of people around him one last time. They all gave him smiles and waved goodbye, eyes trailing behind him as he left the building, Bossuet following close behind. 

“That was certainly an experience.” Bossuet commented, looking over behind them at the cafe, clearly wanting to go back. Who wouldn’t? Grantaire frowned and curled his fists into balls, taking precise steps and trying to ignore how tensely he was walking. He needed some quiet. Definitely. Why would he even ask Bossuet to accompany him? Bossuet was better friends with the people in that group than he’d been with Grantaire in several years. Grantaire did things with Bossuet out of necessity, Bossuet probably consented out of pity. Grantaire exhaled upwards, feeling the curls on his forehead bounce right back into place. 

“You know, you can leave if you want to. I just.. I have a lot on my mind now and I think I should probably think about it alone. I’ll call you later, I promise.” He assured, though he’d probably fall asleep before he was able to call him. For emphasis, he took out his phone and pressed it up against his ear with a forced smile. Bossuet chuckled and turned away, waving behind him at Grantaire as he walked back into the cafe. Grantaire didn’t notice as he trudged on forward, but really, how was that any different from normal? 

Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he thought about calling Eponine to ask her about what he should do, though he knew that she was hardly better at this whole romance deal than he was. She had gotten what was certain to be an even bigger screwing with her soul mark, seeing as the person who was supposed to be her soulmate had died when he was too young, leaving a childish scribbling on her arm of what could have been. If only they had lived into their adult lives, Eponine would have been a lot more content. A dozen times she’d tried to have it removed, tried to move past it, but she’d only ended up falling for someone who had already met his soulmate. Her parents certainly thought of her as an absolute disgrace, but as the trash gods they had found their perfect match in being horrible, which was another one of Eponine’s favorite talk subjects.

Perhaps she wouldn’t exactly be the most perfect of people to rant about, it would only end up stressing the both of them out more than they’re already stressed. Why did soulmates have to be so difficult? Everyone painted it out to always be an absolute picture perfect ending, but it really just throws everyone off unless they’re actually, legitimately perfect for each other. Grantaire only knew one couple that was like that, which was the one that Eponine was so immensely jealous of. How unfair for anyone who happened to be in any sort of situation that the tattoo just couldn’t figure out, some change of fate that led to one immensely heartbroken person.

Soulmates were just a fucked up idea.

That particular train of thought refused to leave him the entire time he attempted to navigate his way home, eventually ending up calling Eponine and just asking for directions. She had a wonderful sense of direction and irony, as she laughed at Grantaire the whole time for not walking home with Bossuet. It was immensely frustrating and Grantaire almost hung up on her. Fortunately, though the laughing was bad, she didn’t know why Grantaire hadn’t walked back with Bossuet, or the ridicule would have been far, far worse. This being so, she only chortled when Grantaire mopily pushed through the door to his apartment, finding both her and Gavroche there for no explainable reason once more.

“Bad day?” She mocked in a playful tone, though the silence he gave her was clearly enough to show that it had been, in fact, a terrible day. It wasn’t the worst day of his life, because he had met his soulmate, but it by far hadn’t been the best. Somewhere down in the depths of his mind he had been hoping that his soulmate would be someone who.. you know.. actually liked him? This was some sort of cruel joke.

“Absolutely terrible, and don’t laugh at that, it was actually terrible. You see..” He broke off, eyes sweeping the apartment. “Where is Gavroche?” He asked wearily. Sure, Gavroche was absolutely amazing at keeping secrets and, as far as Grantaire knew, had kept every secret that had ever been told to him, but he knew that Gavroche liked to pretend to be older than he was and join Eponine in the make-fun-of-Grantaire club, which was his second least favorite club (right behind the I-hate-macaroni-and-cheese club), and he was very much not in the mood to deal with either of those clubs at the moment. 

Eponine pretended to think about that for a little bit, before replying, “He’s in your room, sleeping on your bed. Sorry, champ, looks like you’re taking the couch bed once more.” She gestured widely at the green couch that was very hard to set up, though surprisingly not bad to sleep on. He groaned and hid his face in his hands, rubbing his face and wondering just why everything had to happen to him today. Eponine seemed to actually take some concern after that, as she gave him a very confused look. “But, I, uh, I could wake him up if you want me to.”

Grantaire took a deep breath, slumping down on the couch and looking up at her with a tight frown. “It’s fine. It really is. I just, hmph.” He huffed, giving up on that sentence and instead just taking his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor. Eponine quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. They’d been friends for long enough to see each other without shirts. “I met him today.” Grantaire stated vaguely, looking at Eponine but not quite making eye contact.

Eponine let out a faint gasping noise, now seeming to understand the situation a little bit more. She sat down next to Grantaire, casually taking off her shirt and dropping it to the floor. “We’re even now.” She said with a little smile, then jabbed at the remote. “Talk or TV?” She asked, looking Grantaire directly in the eyes. They’d done this before, where they would choose to either talk about the situation at hand or ignore it until it got better. There always was a third option, but Grantaire had apparently already been out drinking on that particular night, and Eponine knew that he had a habit to drink past what anyone should.

Grantaire looked at the remote, then up at Eponine. Funny how he was so used to her shirtless. His eyes went back to the remote after a bit, but Grantaire took it and put it on the arm of the couch closer to him without pressing any buttons. “I think I’d rather talk, but I swear, if you make fun of me at all during this I will kick you out tomorrow morning without any breakfast. And you won’t get to hear any juicy Grantaire gossip. Deal?” He asked, staring at a spot on the wall where he’d apparently gotten paint a few nights before. Funny how he hadn’t noticed. 

“Deal.” She said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Now, tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that update took a long time. Hope you enjoy! Everyone who commented, I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this http://kiyala.tumblr.com/post/84820312576 tumblr post.


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